Food For Thought
by catchingskies
Summary: When Stan starts to lose his mind and won't let anyone help him, it's up to Kyle to help him get through it.


Chapter 1: A Walk in the Snow

The cold wind whipped against my face, forcing me to shut my eyes to protect them from the frigid air. He walked around the block whenever he need to think, and I have some serious stuff to work through today. However, I can't get his mind off the freezing air that's hitting from my face to my feet. Of course, I have my jacket and hat on, and my clothes are thicker than average, but it's the goddamn peak of the winter in Colorado, and my gloves and scarf went missing somehow. So I have to keep my neck pressed close to my chest, and jam my hands into the pockets of my jacket. It didn't help that my hat is starting to grow a bit tight on me, revealing some little pieces of my hair. My hair annoys the hell out of me

When I felt warm enough to not freaking die, I let my mind wander where it wanted to go, knowing that whatever lay heavily upon my mind would lead me where I need. Figuratively, of course. For a short while, I thought about random stuff, such as the chemistry homework and what the hell was up with Clyde the other day. But eventually, my mind took him where he was expecting it to take he. The topic that's been bothering the shit out of me for the past three weeks.

Stan.

Stan's been acting like such an asshole recently. He had been fine on Friday, the 6th, but on the 9th, a Monday, he stood at the bus stop quietly and angrily. His blue eyes looked like they were about to boil over with rage, and his entire face was tinged red, however that may have been from the cold air. When I tried to talk to Stan about what was going on, Stan just blew up in my face like a complete dickwad with an "I'm fine! Why do you always have to jump down my throat every time I'm not fucking smiling like a fucking doll! I'm allowed to be quiet sometimes, you know!"

After that, I didn't talk to Stan all day. I didn't know what was going on with him, but I figured it was best to leave him alone to let him to figure it out himself. On Thursday, he wasn't on the bus, but in the middle of third period Geometry, the principal personally dropped him off in class, stating that he was found sleeping behind a dumpster. Stan looked pissed as hell. It was less of a "I don't wanna be here, I hate all of you," look than a "Fucking society always cramping my style." It was exactly what Cartman would call a hippie look. It wasn't at all what Stan usually looked like. This was when I started to worry. Stan wasn't acting at all like himself, and it worried the fuck out of me.

It was yesterday, Tuesday, when Stan seemed ready to fall apart at any moment. He had come to school in nothing but plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. How he wasn't freezing his fucking ass off, I didn't know. He had huge, almost painful looking bags under his eyes, and his black hair was in complete disarray. He looked like a meth addict without the twitching, and the hallucinations. All day he was leaning over whatever table he was sitting at, his bloodshot eyes almost never moving.

Then today, when I was on his way towards the supermarket, I saw Stan crouched on the ground outside his house, as if he was ready to pounce on some imaginary prey. When I let his eyes pass by him, Stan let out the human equivalent of a cat's hiss. It was a strange noise, and was extremely un- Stan-like. _Stan is such a fucking asshole_, I thought. _He's acting like a maniac, and when I try to help him, he acts like a prick. Next week he's gonna be calling me a bad friend because I didn't try to help his stupid ass. _

I stopped suddenly in the realization that I've been wandering around the town for about 3 hours, reflecting on what a huge dick Stan's been recently. His face and hands were starting to freeze, so he started to run home, he got home, kicked off his shoes, and went upstairs to his computer. He went onto Facebook and logged on. He saw that Stan was online. Kyle had convinced Stan to make a Facebook a few years ago. Feeling compelled to talk to him, he opened up a chat box and typed out a Hello, but didn't have the courage to send it to him.

Thinking about how to help Stan, Kyle collapsed onto his bed. Sure, Kyle loved Stan, he was his best friend, but he was such a difficult asshole sometimes. And he was acting so strange. What kind of guy just hisses at someone, nonetheless his best friend, for looking at him when he's crouching creepily in the snow in front of his house? He didn't get Stan's ways of coping with things, just letting it pass, no matter how crazy he drove himself in the meanwhile. It didn't make sense. Isn't it easier to try to tackle whatever's going on instead of going through it? But Stan was such a stubborn son of a bitch that it was difficult to let him know how insane he was being. _I'll think about it in the morning_, thought Kyle as he climbed under his blankets and fell asleep.


End file.
